


Logan Echolls, PI

by CubbieGirl1723



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Car Accident, F/M, Fake Dating, Fix It Fic, Movie AU, Mutual Pining, Only One Bed, Reunion Fic, all my medical knowledge comes from tv shows, team detecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26422687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723
Summary: When Veronica’s dad is in an accident, she returns home to discover Mars Investigations’ newest PI is all too familiar.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 35
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter One

Veronica’s phone rings, interrupting the latest file that she’s perusing. Another domestic violence case. Some days her job in San Francisco’s Legal Aid office is depressing; other times it’s infinitely rewarding. This is one case she doesn’t mind putting aside momentarily. 

She checks the caller ID and is shocked to see Logan Echolls’ picture across her phone screen. She remembers the day she snapped it—standing awkwardly in her apartment, he had asked her to help her find his mom. The case hadn’t turned out well, but the experience had helped rekindle their friendship, and later ignite their relationship. 

Once upon a time he had described them as epic—lives ruined and blood shed. At the time she’d chalked it up to his dramatic tendencies, but merely a year later, Veronica had burned enough bridges to believe it was true. After breaking up with Logan, endangering her friends, and destroying her dad’s career, she’d needed a fresh start. Transferring to Stanford, she’d gotten her law degree and stayed in Northern California after graduation. She’d used her fierce desire for justice in the courtroom, and she most definitely didn’t have any contact with Logan Echolls. Cutting him out of her life had been hard—cutting him out of her heart, even harder—but she told herself it was for the best. For both of them. 

Except now his face flashes across her phone screen. _Why is he calling me?_

Before she finishes her internal debate about whether or not to pick up the phone, the ringing stops. She breathes a sigh of relief. 

And then it starts again. 

_Maybe something is wrong_ , her brain argues. _What does he want?_

Curiosity getting the better of her, Veronica answers the phone. 

“So. What’s new with you?”

Her tone is light, flippant, so she’s surprised when Logan’s voice comes over the line, deep and serious. 

“Veronica. It’s your dad.”

This is so far removed from what she expected, it takes her brain a moment to catch up. 

“What?” is all she manages. 

“There’s been an accident and...you need to get here right away.”

* * *

Her flight from San Francisco to San Diego belongs to the first circle of hell. Limbo itself couldn’t be any worse—crying babies, turbulence, and fog delays only add to her mental agitation. By the time she gets off the plane and picks up her luggage, her worry for her dad has spiraled out of control. 

But the good news is, it’s distracted her from the prospect of seeing Logan Echolls again for the first time in eight years. Now that takes center stage.

 _I wish I didn’t look like a drowned rat_ , she thinks, popping into one of the restrooms to freshen up. Nothing can help the dark circles under her eyes, but she smooths the wrinkles out of her denim jacket and straightens her ponytail. After Logan’s call, she’d run out of her office, stopped by her apartment to change and throw some clothes in a bag, and hurried to the airport. Personal grooming hadn’t been high on the priority list at the time. Taking a deep breath, she grabs a piece of gum and washes her hands. It’s not a vast improvement, but she does feel better. 

Wheeling her suitcase outside into the waning light, the sunset forms a perfect backdrop for Logan as he leans against his midnight blue convertible BMW. She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a beat. 

_Damn, he looks good._ It’s literally unfair how good he looks. Slim, dark jeans, tight navy blue henley accentuating the muscles in his chest, and the smirk he’s never quite been able to wipe off his face when she’s around. Plus the way he’s leaning against his car— _he can lean like nobody’s business_. More than her heart stands up and takes notice as her libido decides to weigh in on the issue. Her blood thrums through her veins. A lack of chemistry never was their problem. More like too much of it. 

_Your dad, Veronica. Focus on your dad_. 

She’d had plenty of time to think on the flight in. She’d been so preoccupied on the phone earlier that she forgot to ask Logan what the hell was going on—namely, _why are you calling me about my dad?_ Her nimble mind has yet to come up with a theory that makes sense. Everything that she lands on cycles back to her dad. _Let him be okay. He has to be okay._

“Hey.” 

How can one syllable hold so much? _I’m glad to see you_ , he says with it, _I’ve missed you_ , and _I hope you’re okay._

She debates how she wants to play it. A businesslike handshake? A friendly kiss on the cheek? Something in between?

In the end she goes with: “Hi there,” and allows Logan to fold her into an awkward hug. She’s still gripping her suitcase behind her, and her purse bumps her leg as she moves toward him. Inhaling deeply, her cheek presses against his chest. The familiar scent—sandalwood cologne, salt water, fabric softener, and something that’s just Logan—comforts her. She can’t help thinking back to high school, remembering the first time they kissed, the way they held each other after Lilly died. 

_Logan_. 

Pulling back, she studies him. Worry, concern, and...wait...is that guilt on his features? Interesting. Something to dig into later but for now, anxiety over her father takes precedence. 

“My dad, Logan. What happened? Do you know anything?”

“There was an accident...he was in a car outside the office this morning and another car rammed into them...I got him out in time, but Sacks—”

“Sacks? Logan, you’re not making any sense,” she cuts him off, forehead wrinkled in confusion. 

He runs his hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. _He’s wearing it longer than he used to. Looks good on him._

“I’m sorry. Let’s talk more in the car, okay?” 

At her nod, he grabs her suitcase and pops the trunk, stowing it in the back as she settles into the passenger seat. 

Logan sits down in the driver’s seat, silently buckling his seat belt and fiddling with the keys. Then he turns to her, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s been eight years but she still knows his tells. He’s definitely nervous about something. 

“I, uh, should put up the top, I guess,” he gestures at the lack of a roof on his car. “So we don’t have to yell to be heard.”

Veronica taps her fingers on her thigh as he pushes a button and the canvas roof covers them. 

“I called the hospital when the plane landed, but have you heard anything about my dad? His condition? Why were you the one to call me instead of them, anyway?” 

“Uh, no, I’m sorry, I haven’t heard anything more. They’re supposed to call me when he’s out of surgery.” Logan shifts, pulling his phone from his pocket and placing it in the cup holder between them, conveniently ignoring her other question. “There, we’ll be sure to hear it if it rings.”

“So…” she prompts. 

Wincing, Logan starts the car and pulls into traffic. 

“Right. Your dad was in a parked car in the alley by the office this morning with Deputy Sacks. Another car ran right into them.” He takes a deep breath. “I saw it happen and I managed to pull him out, but, Veronica…”

His voice breaks, surprising her. _Wow, this must have really affected him_. She places a soothing hand on his forearm. 

He clears his throat and tries again. “Veronica, the car barreled out of the alley and then came back around and smashed into them again. I got your dad out first, I tried, I really did—”

“I’m sure you were amazing, Logan. You probably saved his life.” She continues to rub his arm. “Then what happened?”

“Uh, the ambulance showed up, took them both to the hospital. I convinced them to let me call you, then followed in my car. Your dad was in surgery when I left to pick you up.”

Veronica nods, trying to keep her panic at bay at the thought of her dad in an ambulance. _Find something else to think about._

“Logan...god. I can’t believe you were there. Talk about the right place at the right time.”

That guilty look flashes across his features again. 

“Wait…” she pushes. “It was just a coincidence, right?”

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he sighs. “I don’t know how to tell you this but... I work for your dad.”

Her mouth drops open and the silence hangs heavy in the car for a beat. 

“What? How? I can’t—”

“I think he was gonna tell you,” Logan mumbles, cutting off her sputtering. “He was supposed to, at least.”

“I don’t…” Veronica trails off, remembering her dad’s cryptic words the last time they spoke. _I have news for you, honey_ , he had said. She must be off her game. She’d thought maybe he was dating someone, not that he’d had hired her ex-boyfriend. 

“I thought he didn’t even like you!” she blurts. 

Logan chuckles. “Yeah, me too. Turns out we get along better if I’m not dating his daughter.”

“But...how…?”

“We’re doing this now?” Logan sighs.

Veronica gives the interior of the car an exaggerated glance. “Do you have something else in mind?”

He sighs dramatically. _He always was a drama queen_. “I really think this would be better coming from your dad, but….”

She waits him out. 

“Fine. After college I was...let’s say I was at loose ends for a while. I’d always kinda liked your Nancy Drew stuff—thought it looked like fun. So I convinced Vinnie VanLowe to hire me.”

“No!” She gasps. “I mean, I knew he went back to being a PI after he got booted out of office but….”

“Yeah. I really had no idea what I was doing but I got my license, started working for him. At one point, I ran into your dad on a case and he was so disgusted at the thought of Vinnie teaching anyone his ‘tricks’ of the trade that he offered me a job on the spot.” A slow grin spreads across his face at the memory. “I don’t know which one of us was more surprised. It ended up working out okay, though.”

“How long have you worked for him?”

“Six months or so.”

Veronica sits in silence, thinking back over her interactions with her dad lately. _Had he been cagey? Should she have known he was keeping something from her? And wait a minute…_

“How did you know he was going to tell me? How did you know he hadn’t already? Do you guys talk about me?” Her voice rises with each question as the implications start to make her blood boil. 

“No, no, it wasn’t like that!” Logan protests. “He was very clear from the beginning—we had to have boundaries for a professional relationship to work. You were a line that couldn’t be crossed.”

“But then how did you know he hadn’t told me?”

He grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. “You called the office one day over lunch. Keith got to the phone before I did, thankfully, but he was so agitated, I knew something was up. He confessed that you didn’t know I was working for him but he promised to tell you soon.”

She remembers that call...about a month back. Her dad had sounded distracted on the phone but she’d thought it was because she interrupted him at work in the middle of a case. _You’re losing your edge, Veronica._

Her fury mounts. _Talking about me behind my back. Keeping secrets from me._ And there’s a very small part of her...is that a twinge of pride at the thought of her dad and Logan getting along? But anger is more comfortable than her fear and worry about his accident so she holds onto that. 

“He has to be okay,” she mutters, “so I can yell at him about this.”

Logan grabs her hand across the console, sending a spark through her body. He had always been tactile, so his touch shouldn’t surprise her. Rather, she’s surprised she still reacts to it. 

“I really, really hope so, Ronnie.” He rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “You ready to do this?” 

He puts the car in park and gestures at the tall, sprawling building outside the window. Balboa County Memorial Hospital. She hadn’t even realized they’d arrived. 

Taking a deep breath, she pulls her hand from his grasp. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

* * *

Her dad is out of surgery but still recovering, so they won’t let her see him yet. She paces the waiting area while the nurse at the desk summons a doctor to give them an update. Logan slumps against the window, staring out at a bleak little courtyard and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Ms. Mars?”

She spins to see a doctor in the doorway, flipping through a chart. He reminds her of Doogie Houser—too impossibly young to be a doctor, let alone operating on her father. His green scrubs are wrinkled and she wishes he was wearing a white lab coat. Or a stethoscope around his neck. Anything, really, to inspire confidence. 

She nods, acknowledging that she is Ms. Mars. He consults the chart again and launches into a detailed medical explanation describing her father’s surgery. 

“Wait,” she cuts off his jargon, slashing the air with her hand. “Is he okay? Can I see him?

Logan moves next to her, not touching. His agitation rolls off him in waves. 

The doctor—she didn’t catch his name—nods. “He has a long road to recovery. Like I said, his pelvis was shattered. But with physical therapy—”

“When can I see him?”

Dr. Doogie consults the stupid chart again. 

“Not until tomorrow.” 

Her heart drops. 

“We’re keeping him heavily sedated.”

“But—”

Logan cuts off her protest. “You can at least let her into his room. Even if he’s asleep.”

She shoots him a grateful look. 

“Well…” The doctor starts to weaken. 

“Or, or just through the window,” she offers. “Just let me see him. Please.”

“Okay. Come with me.”

* * *

Veronica presses her fingers to the cool glass of the window and wills herself not to cry. Her father is hooked up to more machines than she thought possible, bandages and tape covering his wan skin. Keith Mars is larger than life. She hates this version of him—frail, small, old. 

Taking a shuddering breath, she spins to face Logan, still hovering behind her. She throws herself into his arms, burying her face into his chest. 

Stroking her unkempt hair, he makes soothing noises for a moment. Pulling back, she surreptitiously wipes at her eyes.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, not looking at him. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” After one last glance at her dad lying in the hospital bed, Logan throws an arm around her shoulders and steers her toward the elevator. “Let me take you home.”

Lost in both the buttery soft leather seats in his BMW and her extreme exhaustion, Veronica dozes as Logan drives her to her dad’s house. It’s only when he pulls up to the curb in front of the craftsman bungalow and she stares at the (locked) door that she realizes—she doesn’t have a key. _Shit_. 

“Logan...do you by any chance have a key to my dad’s place?”

His eyes widen. “Veronica, he’s my boss. We get along fine these days but we don’t have sleepovers.”

“Well, his keys...the hospital...I don’t have one, either.”

He shifts the car back into drive. “I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, no, that’s...no. You can just take me to...a hotel.” She can’t bring herself to say “The Grand.” She hasn’t been there since the last time she saw Logan—and ran out on him. 

“No, it’s fine. You can sleep on my couch. It’s pretty comfy.”

“I could...Mac or Wallace…” she suggests, but trails off as she looks at her watch. It really is too late to crash with anyone else. And Logan clearly knows it. 

“You can call them tomorrow. For now, you can stay with me.”

She’s equal parts grateful and uncomfortable at the prospect of spending the night with Logan. But she’s been having sleepovers with him since they were twelve, curled up like puppies in a pile on the couches in the Echolls media room. Granted, Lilly and Duncan had always been there but... _it’s not really that different_ , she tells herself. 

* * *

Logan lives in a modern loft apartment downtown. Despite the mansion he grew up in, she’s always pictured him in a house on the beach. However, the wide, open space, exposed duct-work, and wood floors fit him, too. He tosses his keys on the kitchen counter and grimaces at the clutter—mail, coffee cups, stacks of dog eared paperbacks, and a half-empty box of Cliff Bars. 

“Sorry it’s a mess, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Oh, no problem.” Veronica sinks onto the orange couch, feeling some of the tension from the day finally slip away. “It’s really nice of you to let me crash here. I can just go to sleep if—”

“How about a movie?” Logan suggests, interrupting her, and she remembers their many movie nights in high school and college. A soft smile crosses her features. 

“Yeah, okay.”

“The bathroom’s there,” he points to a door off the main living room area, “if you want to put on pajamas first.”

Logan knows her well. Pajamas are always a must for movie nights. 

“Thanks.” She wheels her carry-on suitcase behind her and quickly changes into leggings and a faded grey Stanford t-shirt. After brushing her teeth and washing up for the night, she exits the bathroom and studies her surroundings. 

The far wall is covered floor-to-ceiling with windows and exposed brick. It’s undoubtedly amazing when the sunlight floods the space. The living area, with the TV, couch and overstuffed chairs grouped around a cozy rug, bleeds into the kitchen. A floating staircase along the right side of the room leads to the second floor loft. The master suite is undoubtedly up there. 

_Logan’s bedroom. Where he—_

_Stop it, Veronica._

To corral her thoughts, she inspects the kitchen, letting her fingers trail over the surface of the countertop. Instead of a table, there are bar stools along an island in front of the cooktop, stainless steel fridge, and sink. For someone who used to subside on take-out and room service, Logan seems to have a pretty functional kitchen. _Has he learned to cook?_

_People are allowed to change, Veronica. You have. And you never would have pictured Logan working for your dad, so maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought._

Her musings are cut short as Logan descends the stairs, clad now in grey jersey pants and a maroon Hearst t-shirt. She’s pretty sure she remembers borrowing it from him in college. Although it looks softer now. Had it looked that comfy back then, she would have stolen it for sure. He scratches his chest, inadvertently drawing her eye to his biceps and pectoral muscles. 

_Did he fill out that shirt quite so well in college?_ Her pulse quickens. _Another thing that has changed._

“So what would you like to watch? And can I get you something to eat? Drink?”

He pads to the kitchen half of the spacious room, feet bare, and leans against the counter. _Damn, with the leaning again._

“Um.” Veronica forces her brain to function. “Something funny that we used to watch in high school. And popcorn?”

“Sounds great.” He starts making the popcorn, rustling through the kitchen for supplies. “Mean Girls? Legally Blonde? Anchorman?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Do you seriously own Legally Blonde? You complained every time Lilly and I made you watch it.”

“Yeah, but I secretly liked it. It’s a good memory now.” A small smile graces his face and she bets he’s thinking of Lilly. “You probably have it memorized. You practically lived it, right?”

Veronica laughs. “You got me. Going to law school was really just me living out my dream of being Elle Woods. It’s highly accurate, by the way.”

“Oh, good, I’m glad.” He hands her a large bowl of popcorn and steers her over to the sofa. “Come on, we can watch and you can tell me what law school is really like.”

After getting her settled on the couch, Logan starts the movie. Rummaging through a linen closet off the main room, he returns with a cashmere blanket, tucking it around her shoulders. The stress of the day, Logan’s phone call, the anxiety about her dad, and now his compassion all come crashing down on her at once and tears prick her eyelids. Closing them, she hides it with a yawn. 

“Hey, you gonna make it through the movie?” He nudges her as the strains of “Perfect Day” fill the room. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” 

He places his arm across the back of the couch and she lets herself lean into it a little. _He’s just being a good friend, Veronica. And you...well...it’s been a long day. It’s not like it means anything more than that._

* * *

Veronica wakes the next morning, head pillowed on Logan’s chest. _Looks like you fell asleep during the movie, after all_. And clearly, so did Logan. She inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of him, and the sheer familiarity of it after all these years fills her with peace. 

His face is slack, relaxed, and the years fall away, making him look like he’s in high school again. She didn’t expect to be back here, not like this, but she’d be lying if she claimed she hadn’t secretly hoped something would bring Logan back into her life someday. 

But then she remembers why she’s here—Dad—and her heart clenches again. The anxiety makes her twitchy, so she eases off Logan, careful not to wake him, and flees to the bathroom. 

When she returns, brushed, washed, and dressed for the day, Logan is still asleep. Snoring lightly, he’s lying on his back, one hand flung out, dangling over the edge of the couch. 

Chuckling to herself at the way he still manages to sleep like a diva, Veronica familiarizes herself with Logan’s kitchen and figures out how to make a pot of coffee. 

As it’s brewing, the scent fills the loft. Logan runs a hand over his face, muttering, “Mmm, coffee,” and sits up. Rubbing his eyes, he gives her a sheepish grin. His hair is flat against the left side of his head and sticking straight out on the right. She had forgotten how utterly adorable he is upon waking. Her heart skips a beat. 

“Sorry I fell asleep on the ‘bed’ I offered you.” He pats the couch. “I’m a pretty poor host.”

“Nah.” Veronica shrugs. “You have coffee so all is forgiven.” 

“Easier than I expected. Although I should have known—the way to your heart has always been through your stomach.” 

Not wanting to dwell on what Logan Echolls knows about her heart, she hands him a coffee mug with just the right amount of cream. _Unless that’s changed, too._

“I want to get to the hospital as soon as I can. Do you mind giving me a ride? I’ll call a cab if you’re busy.”

He takes a sip and licks his upper lip, drawing her eyes to his mouth. “Perfect. I’d be happy to drive you. Though I should probably go into the office today, too. Try to keep the lights on and the place running.”

Standing, Logan sets down the coffee mug and stretches, raising his arms to the ceiling. His movements inadvertently cause the hem of his shirt to ride up a bit, revealing a line of tanned skin just above the waistband of his pants. Veronica gulps. _Damn_ . His abs are incredibly toned. _Yummy_ is the word that pops into her brain. 

He stares at her and belatedly she realizes that this is the point in the conversation where she’s probably supposed to talk. _What was he saying? Oh, right. Mars Investigations._

“Yeah.” She clears her throat. “I know my dad would appreciate that.”

Logan glances at his bare wrist, checking a non-existent watch. “Give me...fifteen minutes to get ready?”

“Fifteen?” she teases. “You certainly have pared down your hair care routine.”

With a playful growl, he grabs her and pulls her into a rough hug against his chest, rubbing the top of her head and messing up her ponytail. He’s just playing around, of course, but god, he smells good. She shoves him away, laughing, and hopes he doesn’t notice that she lingered a bit too long in his arms. 

“Go work on your own hair, Mars.” Smirking, he grabs his coffee and heads upstairs. “Fifteen minutes.” 

* * *

When Veronica arrives at the hospital, the visibly disapproving nurse outside her dad’s room informs her that Keith is sleeping and he doesn’t think Veronica should “bother” him right now. 

_Sorry, Nurse Rached. It’s been almost twenty-four hours, I’m not waiting any longer._

Veronica wants to roll her eyes and barge in anyway but in the interest of being more diplomatic, she does her best to assure the man she will be quiet. Logan points to the uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs in the family lounge, indicating that he’ll wait outside. 

Pushing open the door, her breath catches at the sight of her dad in the hospital bed. Tears prick her eyelids, but she swallows down the lump in her throat and moves toward him. _Keith Mars is tougher than this. He’ll be okay_ , she tells herself. 

His chest rises and falls, and the steady beep of the heart rate monitor reassures her. Reaching out, she brushes her fingers gently across his arm. 

“Daddy?”

His eyes flutter open. 

“V’ronica?” 

The sound of his raspy voice, usually so jovial and vibrant, is almost her undoing.

“Hey, Daddy. It’s me.” The tears spill over but she doesn’t bother to check them. Clearing her throat, she tries to adopt a stern tone. 

“I don’t know what you’ve been up to, mister, but I don’t like getting phone calls telling me that you’re in the hospital.” She huffs. “And from Logan Echolls, no less! You have some serious ’splaning to do.”

His eyes slide closed and his breathing evens out again. The nurse had warned her that he would be tired. 

Veronica places a kiss on his forehead. “Avoiding a conversation by feigning sleep? That sounds like a page out of my playbook, old man. I’ll let it slide this time. And I’ll be back later to check on you.”

She stops by the bathroom in the hallway to compose herself before finding Logan. After splashing some water on her face, reapplying her mascara and lip gloss, and some deep breaths, she’s ready. 

Logan looks up from a battered copy of National Geographic as she enters the waiting area. Tossing it on a scarred wooden table, he raises a brow. 

“He opened his eyes and recognized me, but then he fell back asleep,” she answers his unspoken question. 

Exhaling deeply, he gives her a shaky smile. _He seems really affected. Logan and Dad must be closer than I’d realized._

“That’s great news.” Clearing his throat, he switches gears. “So. What are you thinking for today? What do you need?” 

Veronica glances around the hospital. “Honestly, I’ll go crazy if I sit around here all day. I’d like to check back in later, but….” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, trying to decide how to best broach the topic. It’s been bothering her all morning. “You, you don’t think it was an accident, right?”

Solemnly, Logan shakes his head no. “I just—no. I don’t see how it could have been.”

A familiar thrill faintly stirs in her chest. _Dig deeper, Veronica._

“Well, let’s...investigate it. Figure it out. Solve it!” 

It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way, but adrenaline zips through her veins and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. 

Logan’s eyes are wide, however, and he gulps. He holds his hands up, protecting himself or warding her off, she’s not sure which. 

“No, Veronica. I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should probably leave that to—”

She takes a menacing step toward him, hissing. “If you say ‘to the pros,’ I will punch you. I got you off murder charges in high school, Logan, and don’t even think—”

“Okay, okay, calm down!” He hops up out of his chair, rubbing the back of his neck and pacing a tight length around the small area. 

Veronica takes a deep breath and changes tactics. _More flies with honey and all that._

“I might not have my PI license anymore, but you know I’m good at this,” she wheedles. “Come on. I have some days off coming to me. Let me do this with you, Logan. Please.”

She puts her hand on his forearm and gazes up at him. 

“This feels like a bad idea.” With a sigh, Logan shakes his head. “Only because I care about Keith.”

Veronica manages to keep her triumphant smile in check. But only just. 

* * *

“So what were Sacks and my dad meeting about?” 

Veronica’s words are muffled around a bite of a breakfast burrito she made Logan grab from a drive-through. She swipes at a dribble of sauce on her chin with a napkin. 

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” he muses. “Keith didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Maybe he made some notes about it? Do you know the combination to the safe?” 

She sips her second cup of coffee, returning it to the cup holder to shove more burrito in her mouth. 

“I do.” Logan glances over at her, then back to the road. “But I can’t—”

“Look, Logan, I know the drill. Client confidentiality and all that.” She wads her breakfast wrapper up into a ball, belatedly noticing how fastidious Logan keeps his car. Wiping her crumbs up with a napkin earns her an approving smile.

She clears her throat. “I’m not asking to see into the safe. I was just thinking you should take a peek. I could look at his open cases—”

“Nope.” 

“But it’s Mars Investigations! I’m a Mars!” 

Ignoring her, Logan parks along the street across from the MI office, and Veronica fights a moment of déjà vu. The video rental place has been replaced with a nail salon and some of the storefront signs are a little worse for wear, but pulling up in front of her dad’s office with Logan makes the years fall away. 

Shaking it off, she hurries after him. “Okay, what if you just...covered up the names in the open cases? Like, redacted information,” she pesters as he unlocks the door. 

“Well…” 

_He's weakening. Move in for the kill._

“Just another set of eyes," she reasons sweetly. “You know, on the things I’m allowed to see. I could be really helpful.” 

Pulling out her most charming smile, she adds a head-tilt, stepping into the office. 

“Okay, I suppose that could work,” Logan relents, pulling up an extra chair for her next to his desk. 

_He still can’t resist the head-tilt._

Moving into Keith’s half of the office, he flips through the file on top of the desk and sighs. “Veronica, blacking this stuff out is gonna take forever.” 

Inspiration lights his eyes as he perks up, snapping his fingers. “I have a better idea.”

Logan digs his wallet out of his back pocket and extracts a dollar before slapping it into her palm. 

“Did we make a bet I don’t remember, Echolls?”

“There’s the sum total of your salary,” he says, indicating the bill in her hand. “You’re now an official employee. Remember to keep all information confidential. I like cream in my coffee and you can call me ‘Boss.’”

Smirking, he tosses her a file. 

_Boss?_ She quirks a brow at him. _Yeah, right, Logan._

“As if. You’ve worked here six months, you said?”

He nods, wary. 

“I worked here for three years. So I definitely have seniority.”

“But according to the state of California and my P.I. license—”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off before he can gloat too much. “Get to work.”

“I’m rethinking your employment contract. An eager-to-please brunette would suit my needs much better.”

She sticks her tongue out at him but lets it go. He really is doing her a favor, and she knows it. 

“So why was he meeting Sacks? Just an average lunch date, reminiscing about old times in the Sheriff’s Department, or an exchange of information?”

Logan shrugs. “Wish I could tell you.”

“Some P.I. you are,” she huffs. “You don’t even know what he was up to.”

“Look, Veronica, Keith is my boss. I like this job. I’m not going to spy on him; that crosses all sort of boundaries that—”

“But how can you not even know what he was working on?” Her frustration leaks into her voice as her volume increases and she throws her hands in the air, jumping up to pace. 

“It’s not like that.” Logan runs a hand through his hair and she gets momentarily distracted, thinking about how touchable it looks now that he’s wearing it long. 

All at once the fight goes out of her, and she sinks back down into her chair. “What’s it like then?”

“Keith takes the cases, assigns stuff to me. If I get stuck, he advises, talks it out. But we’re not exactly partners.”

“Oh.” 

She was so used to the way things had worked between her and her dad that she hadn’t even stopped to consider there might be another way. 

_And really, Veronica, how did that work out for you? Ruining his career, burning your life down. Maybe your way wasn’t best._

“Um, okay. I’m going to see if Sacks is connected to any of these cases,” she gestures at the mountain of files on her dad’s desk, “see if he was even the responding officer for something, maybe find out what he was meeting with my dad about. Are you gonna check the safe?”

Logan nods, then turns his back to her, hiding the combination as he opens the safe. 

_He knows you all too well, Veronica._

It’s not like she wants to get in the safe. She just wants to know she could. 

So she distracts herself with the files. It’s reassuring to be in her dad’s space, to run her fingers over his handwriting, to let her mind focus on this task instead of her underlying anxiety. 

Veronica loses track of time, jumping at the sound of knuckles rapping on the wooden door frame.

“Hey, Logan.” A sultry brunette lounges in the doorway, long curls brushing her shoulders.

“Oh, hey, Katrina.” A smile spreads across his face and he stands, closing the file he’d been looking through. “Sorry I didn’t call you this morning, I was busy.”

“That’s okay, I know where to find you.”

Veronica glances back and forth between the two, trying to decipher their relationship. 

“You can use your key to let yourself into my apartment, grab the stuff you need. I’ll be out for a while, but we can meet later.”

Katrina cuts her eyes at Veronica, then leans against the desk, her ample cleavage on display. 

“Great. Call if you want me to pick up dinner.” 

“You know me so well.”

Logan sends Katrina his most charming smile, and Veronica’s stomach clenches. _He always did have a thing for brunettes. I guess that answers the question of whether he’s single or not._

“All right. Looking forward to later, then.”

With a flirty wave, she pops out of the doorway and Veronica pretends to be engrossed in the file open before her. 

Logan stretches, biceps flexing, and glosses over the appearance of Katrina.

“What have you found?”

Pressing her lips into a tight line, Veronica tamps down her curiosity. “Corporate espionage, cheating spouse. Nothing new. No bail jumpers anymore?”

“Nah, I take all those so Keith won’t get...hurt.” He stumbles over the last word, wincing. 

“It’s not your fault, Logan. If you hadn’t been there, my dad could be in the morgue with Sacks.”

The silence hangs heavy as Veronica thinks about the man who died. 

“Poor Jerry. He was a good cop.” Logan sits back down in his chair, puts his feet on the desk. “I mean, not good, exactly, but not—”

“Wait a minute, Logan. What if Sacks was the target? Maybe it’s connected to one of his cases or...or maybe he made an enemy? Maybe he needed my dad’s help with something! Or maybe my dad was just collateral damage!”

“Whoa, slow down, Bobcat.” The old nickname halts her words, dregs up memories she can’t deal with. “You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions.”

“I was just spitballing a theory,” she mutters. “Did you find anything in the safe?”

“No, nothing that I didn’t already know about.” Accepting her subject change, Logan shakes his head. “I don’t see any connection to Sacks or anything that would be a threat.” 

“Does my dad still take files home? Do you think there would be anything there?”

“Probably. He brings his briefcase back and forth a lot.”

“Was it in the car? Do you know where it is?”

Logan shrugs. “No idea. Think they’d let us see him and ask?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

* * *

They grabbed lunch on the way so armed with a full stomach, Veronica is ready to do battle with the nurse stationed outside Keith’s room. The harried woman behind the desk buzzes them in and, distracted, waves them through without any questions. 

“Wouldya look at that?” She nudges Logan. “Luck is on our side.”

Just as Veronica’s hand begins to twist the knob, a voice startles her. 

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” 

She spins to see the same nurse she’d encountered earlier this morning, frown creasing his face. If possible, he looks even grumpier now. 

“I was just going to check on him.” She crosses her arms over her chest and juts out her chin defiantly.

_Go ahead and try to fight me on this. It would feel good to have someone to yell at._

“Family only.” The nurse takes a step back and nods his head at Logan. 

“Oh, I must not have mentioned it earlier,” she invents, wrapping her arm around Logan’s waist and hiding her left hand, “but he’s my husband.”

_Sorry, Katrina. I hope you don’t find out about this._

Logan has the good sense to shove his ring-less left hand into his pocket. 

The nurse raises an eyebrow, opening his mouth to protest, but before he can speak, he’s interrupted by a code blue announcement paging ICU personnel to room 202.

“Shit,” the nurse swears under his breath, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Don’t stay long.” 

He hurries off as Veronica eases the door open. 

Keith’s eyes stay shut as they tiptoe into the room. 

“Hi, Daddy,” she whispers, brushing her fingers over his forearm. He doesn’t stir. 

Clearing her throat, she turns to Logan, thankful he ignores her glassy eyes. 

“If his briefcase was brought in with him, do you know where it would be? Can you look around?”

Nodding, he starts going through the cabinets that line the wall of the hospital room, giving her a moment with her dad. 

“I’m glad you’re resting well, Daddy-O. We’ll be back later to check on you, and when you feel up for talking—”

“Veronica.” Logan quietly tugs on a tall, obviously locked cabinet. “I bet they lock personal effects in here. I’m gonna go see if I can find someone to unlock it.”

He slips out and Keith shifts, moaning in his sleep. 

“Dad? Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

Veronica jumps when a machine hooked to her father beeps loudly. She takes a step closer to him.

A short, rotund nurse, brown hair pulled back into a perky ponytail, bustles into the room. 

“No need to worry, I just need to swap out his fluids,” she explains to Veronica as Logan trails in after her. 

Veronica wills her heart to return to a normal rate while the new nurse busies herself by swapping out lines and changes out the bag hanging from a pole above the bed.

“How's he doing?” Veronica clears her throat, trying to cover the crack in her voice.

“I’m not a doctor so I can’t give you an official report but from what I’ve seen, he’s doing better. It’s totally normal for him to sleep for long stretches at this point. His body needs a lot of rest to recover.

The nurse checks the many monitors beside Keith one last time and consults his chart. 

“Your husband said you are looking for his personal effects?” She questions, never taking her eyes off her patient. 

_Husband_ ? Her brain stutters at the word. _Oh, right. Logan._

“Oh, um, yes. We need his keys to check on his house and his briefcase, um…”

“He keeps them in there,” Logan supplies.

“As you can imagine, I’m not allowed to give you any personal items unless Mr. Mars approves it. Wouldn’t be very secure if we locked up things only to give them away to the first person who asked.

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t worry about it, Snookums,” Logan cuts her off, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and squeezing her to his side. “I’m sure he’ll wake up soon and then we can ask him.”

Inclining his head to nuzzle her hair, he whispers, “Get her to leave,” in Veronica’s ear. 

“Right.” Veronica tries not to enjoy their proximity too much and forces a tremulous smile on her face. “You’re so smart, honey.” 

Pressed close to him, she feels a silent chuckle run through Logan’s body at that. 

The nurse writes Keith’s vitals on the whiteboard by his bed. “I know he’s not awake, but we still want to limit visitors—”

“Oh, we won’t stay long.” Veronica bites her lip, doesn’t have to do much to force tears to the surface. The distraught daughter act is far too close to the truth. “Just five more minutes?”

Her voice trembles and Logan rubs circles on her back. She’s not sure if it’s part of his act or not but, regardless, it’s comforting. She sniffles.

“Make it two and we have a deal.”

Nurse Perky hurries off to her next patient and Logan returns to the cabinet, pulling a set of lock picks out of his jacket pocket. 

“Can you keep an eye on the door while you talk to your dad?”

“Can you pick a lock in two minutes?”

He scoffs. “That’s one minute and thirty seconds more than I need. Watch and learn, Mars.”

In far less time than it would have taken her, even in her prime—not like she’d ever admit it—Logan has the cabinet open. He pulls out her dad’s battered briefcase. 

“Yahtzee.” Rifling through it, he dangles Keith’s keys proudly before shoving them into his pocket. “What do you want out of here?”

Voices sound outside the door. 

“Just grab it all!” Veronica hisses. 

Logan glances around. “Do you have a purse this will fit in?”

“I left it in the car. Easier to sneak around without it.”

With a shrug, he lifts the hem of his grey t-shirt and tucks a handful of manila files into the waistband of his jeans, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of his abs. Then he smooths the fabric down, adjusts his jacket, and she has to admit, it’s not noticeable. 

“Smooth, Echolls.”

“I’ve learned a thing or two.” Grabbing her hand, he tugs her out of the hospital room. 

* * *

Pulling up in front of Keith’s craftsman bungalow, Veronica remembers how proud he was when he was able to purchase it a few years ago. 

_“Sorry we had to live in that cramped apartment for so long, kiddo,”_ he had said, _“but now when you come visit, we can grill out in the backyard.”_

He had made a big deal about the guest room, too, making sure she knew she could always come and visit. Not like she had taken him up on it often, pushing him to come visit her instead so she wouldn’t be haunted by memories in Neptune. 

The least she can do is make sure his house is okay, though. _Mow the lawn_ , she adds to her mental list. _Pull weeds, too_. 

Logan turns and looks back at her from the front porch and she realizes she’s still sitting in the car, staring. 

Hurrying out, she examines the key ring they’d swiped from her dad. She recognizes the keys to his Crown Vic and the keys to the office. A few smaller ones probably belong to filing cabinets. She’s just going to have to try the rest. 

On her third attempt, the door creaks open. “Bingo.”

The house is tidy, afternoon light filtering in through the front windows. Tears burn her eyelids when she spies her dad’s coffee mug in the sink. 

_He’s going to be fine. He’ll be back here in no time._

To cover her emotions, she marches over to the dishwasher and begins unloading it. Logan continues to stand by the door, eyeing her with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

“Can you look for any work files?” she asks him over the clink of the plates. If he notices how her voice wavers, he doesn’t mention it. 

“Sure,” he murmurs, and moves out of her sight line. She sighs, wiping away the tears that had leaked out when her back was to him. 

Losing herself in the mundane task, Veronica makes a game of trying to find where things go on the first try. Reaching up on her tiptoes to put a bowl on the top shelf, she startles when Logan’s fingers close over hers. Right behind her, he easily puts the bowl away and she spins to face him. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The moment hangs between them as she gazes into his eyes. If he just dropped his head six inches, he’d be kissing her. 

Maybe he can read her mind because he steps back, clearing his throat. 

“I didn’t find any case files in the bedroom or the office. Anywhere else you can think to look?”

“No, I—wait a minute.” Veronica snaps her fingers and brushes past him, shivering a little at the contact. He trails after her, down the hall to her dad’s bedroom. 

But when she throws open the closet door, the only thing lining the shelves are shoes and Padres caps. 

Laughing at herself, she turns to Logan to explain. “When I was in high school, he kept the files on Lilly in a box in his closet labeled ‘Playboys.’ But I guess he lives alone, doesn’t have to hide anything from his nosy teenage daughter anymore.”

“Very sneaky.” He tugs on a strand of her hair and she follows him back out to the living room, flopping down on the sofa while he takes the armchair. 

“Maybe he can tell us more later at the hospital—”

“Or maybe,” Veronica sits up and cuts him off, determined to make him listen. “Dad was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like I said before, maybe it was Sacks.”

“Well…” Logan draws out the word, mulling it over. “Jerry wasn’t exactly top shelf, but he was solid. I suppose it’s possible.”

“I mean, he’s a cop.” She jumps up to pace, continuing to press her theory. “He certainly had more authority than my dad, and it's very possible that something he was working on made him an enemy.”

Logan stands, runs his hands through his hair. “We’d be remiss if we didn’t look into it next, I guess.”

“Try to contain your excitement.” Linking her arm through his, she tugs him out the door. “Let’s go.”

* * *

“As an officer of the law, I still maintain that you should wait in the car,” Logan whispers as he jiggles his lock pick into Sacks’s back doorknob. 

“I’m a lawyer, I don’t think that necessarily makes me an officer of the law. Besides,” she shrugs, trying to keep her flashlight steady. “I took a leave of absence.”

“You did?” He stops working on the lock and turns to face her, concern evident on his features even in the dark. 

“Really?” She gestures at the door. “We’re doing this _now_?”

“Keep talking.” He returns to his task. “Or I send you back to the car.”

“Like you could send me anywhere,” Veronica mutters, crossing her arms, but Logan ignores it. 

“Your job?” He prompts as the lock clicks. Easing the door open, he pockets the lock pick set and withdraws a small flashlight. 

“Yeah. It’s just, my dad. I don’t know what his recovery will look like. They’ve barely let me see him. I think I’m going to need some time.” She clears her throat, eager to change the subject. “Since we struck out, searching Sacks’s desk at the sheriff’s station earlier, where do you want to start here?”

Logan looks around Sacks’s kitchen, sighs. “Just like his desk, neat as a pin.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she argues, more for the sake of arguing with Logan than anything. 

“No, it just means that we’re less likely to find files lying around.”

Logan moves through the house, giving the tidy living room a cursory glance, then he heads down the small hallway between the two bedrooms. 

“You check the office; I’ll see what’s in his bedroom.”

Veronica shrugs, turns into the door on the left, and begins opening the drawers of Jerry’s cheap particle board desk. It’s all just personal finances and tax records. 

“Hey, look what I found.” Logan sets a closed laptop in front of her. “How are your hacking skills?”

“Not as good as my nunchuck skills, but I can take a look.”

Unlatching the computer, she opens it to a login screen. 

“Is Sacks’s birthday listed on any of those records?”

Logan flips through Sacks’s income tax statements. 

“September 24, 1972. But he was a cop, you don’t really think he’d…” He trails off as the computer flashes to the home screen. 

“Sacks was old school. Probably had no time for the cyber security workshops and ignored the warnings about picking a good password. I’m proud of him for not having it on a post-it nearby.”

Veronica scans the screen, trying to decide where to start and what she’s looking for.

“Just copy the whole thing.” Reading her mind, Logan digs a flash drive out of his pants pocket and slaps it into her palm. 

“This thing is massive,” she whistles, then rolls her eyes as Logan leers. 

“You should see what’s in the other pocket.”

Plugging in the flash drive, she begins copying the hard drive. Rolling out the kinks in her neck and shoulders, she tries to loosen her tense muscles. 

“Here, let me.” Hovering behind her, Logan kneads her flesh, thumbs digging in at the base of her spine exactly the way she likes. His hands feel amazing. 

“Oh god, yes.”

Veronica's head lulls to the side as he continues rubbing her shoulders. Leaning back, his breath is warm against her ear. This close to him, she’s enveloped in his scent, familiar and arousing. If she turned her head, she’d be close enough to kiss him. She can’t help but think of other massages, in his suite at the Neptune Grand, massages that always ended in the best sex she’s ever had. 

“Logan,” she whispers, voice husky. “What are—”

“Neptune Sheriff’s Department! Hands up!”

* * *

“Veronica!” Cliff McCormack sing-songs her name and taps his pen on the bars of her holding cell. “I was hoping to catch you, but not like this.”

“Clifford.” She keeps her tone businesslike, trying to gloss over the fact that she’s a lawyer herself and got busted for breaking and entering. “There was a misunderstanding. Thanks for coming.”

“A misunderstanding?” Cliff raises an incredulous eyebrow, his dry voice dripping with sarcasm. “Two sheriff's deputies found you and Mr. Echolls in Jerry’s house at two o’clock in the morning, and he sure as hell didn’t invite you.”

“Well—”

But Cliff is on a roll, really warming up to his topic. “I don’t know what they taught you at that fancy law school of yours, V—”

“Stanford,” she interrupts but he ignores her. 

“But the B and E situation doesn’t look great.”

“Eh, it’s more an illegal trespass than a B and E. There was no intent to commit a crime, it’s a misdemeanor. How’d they find us, anyway?”

“Neighbors knew it should be empty, reported the flashlights.”

“Stupid nosy neighbors,” Veronica grumbles. “And since he’s dead, there’s really no way to prove that Sacks didn’t give us a key, invite us over anytime or something.”

Cliff shakes his head. “It’s not a great argument, Veronica, but it will do.” 

He clears his throat, rocks on his heels. “The good news is that I told the sheriff something similar. They’re letting you off with a warning. You’re free to go.” 

“Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“It’s…” Cliff checks his watch. “Four a.m. More fun for me this way.”

* * *

Bitching and moaning the entire time, Cliff drives them from the sheriff’s station back to Logan’s car, still parked around the block from Sacks’s house. After promising him a chauffeur bonus as part of his fee, Cliff gives them one final glare and speeds off.

“How is it that he’s the only lawyer you know in Neptune?” Logan muses as he starts his BMW.

“Come on, you know he’s practically on retainer with Mars Investigations. He’s probably lost without my dad.” Covering up the pang of guilt she feels, Veronica buckles the passengers seat belt around herself and changes the subject. “How was your holding cell experience?” 

“Drunk tank. I was in the drunk tank with some lovely patrons from The Road Hog. Their sparkling personalities were eclipsed only by their personal hygiene. And you?”

“No company, but it’s not as nice as your couch. I’m glad I don’t have to spend the rest of the night there.” Veronica shivers in exaggerated horror. “Or longer.”

“Veronica, I wouldn’t let you languish in prison.” He glances over at her with a smile. “If Cliff hadn’t come up with a plan, I’d have paid our bail, don’t worry.”

His words sink in, despite her tired brain. 

“Logan? I don’t mean to be crass or indelicate,” she pauses, about to be both, “but if you still have that kind of cash, why are you working for my dad?”

Logan checks his mirror, taps his long fingers on the steering wheel. 

“I told you. I was working for Vinnie and your dad took pity on me.”

“That’s not what I meant. Why are you working? We both know you don’t have to.”

Shifting, she stares at his profile—long, straight nose, strong jaw. Her stomach gives a flare of desire as she thinks about running her hands through his tousled hair and she tamps it down. He’s taken, after all. 

He glances at her, then back to the road, shrugging. “I was bored. I needed something. It keeps me out of trouble, and I like the flexibility, the hours. The variety.”

“It’s nice to know you’ll be watching out for my dad when I have to go back to San Francisco.” 

“Yeah, what are your plans for that?”

Sighing, Veronica leans her head against the cool windowpane. “I guess I should fly back up soon, grab some clothes, make arrangements to be gone for a while.”

Dread fills her at the thought of leaving Neptune, of leaving this case unfinished. 

_Is that all you don’t want to leave, Veronica?_

“You don’t have to take a leave of absence, Veronica. Cliff and I, we can—”

“You’ve already done so much, Logan,” she cuts him off, yawning. “You saved his life.”

“You should get some sleep.” He keeps his voice light, and she’s grateful for the subject change. Glancing out the window, she realizes they’re headed downtown. 

“Oh, you can drop me off at my dad’s now that I have the key.”

“But your luggage is still at my place. You can crash there. The couch is pretty comfortable.”

It was certainly comfortable when she fell asleep on it last night, but that may have had more to do with Logan’s shoulder than anything else. 

She wants to argue—her default setting with Logan, but it would be rude to make him drive her out of his way at this point. Murmuring her assent, she closes her eyes. 

* * *

“Veronica.” Logan shakes her shoulder gently. “Wake up and come inside.”

Rubbing her burning eyes, Veronica stumbles out of the passenger door and follows Logan into his building and up to his loft. 

Running a hand over his face, he eyes his plush orange couch. 

“Say the word and I’ll find blankets for you. Maybe an extra pillow, even. Or…” he raises the pitch of his voice enticingly, glances up at his bedroom. “My bed is plenty big. King-size. Since we’re only going to get a few hours sleep, might as well make sure it’s quality, right?”

Her bleary brain stutters, imagining Logan’s bed. But…

“What about Katrina?” She blurts out, too tired to be tactful. “Wouldn’t that bother her?”

Forehead wrinkling, Logan raises an eyebrow. “I don’t see why.”

“You don’t see why it would bother your girlfriend if I shared your bed? I mean, I’ve heard of open relationships but—”

“Katrina’s not my girlfriend, Veronica. She’s my housekeeper.”

Details click into place and she picks her jaw up off the floor. “Oh.” 

Making a mental note to consider the implications of this later; right now she can only focus on how excellent his invitation sounds. 

“Lead the way.” Veronica gestures at the floating staircase. 

She doesn’t bother to grab clothes out of her suitcase, but wordlessly accepts the too-big t-shirt and soft pajama pants that Logan hands her from his drawers. After he finishes in the bathroom, she changes her clothes and splashes water on her face before crawling into the massive bed next to him. She’s instantly jealous that her own bed at home isn’t this comfortable. Having pushed her body to its limits over the past few days, when Logan turns off the light, a wave of exhaustion hits. Her eyes slide closed, and she doesn’t have time to dwell on the fact that she’s in Logan’s bed for the first time in eight years.

* * *

Veronica wakes up, head pillowed on Logan’s bare chest. His arm is around her waist, fingers splayed across her stomach underneath the t-shirt. She should probably move. 

But it feels incredible. 

She’d started out on the other side of his king-size bed. How did she end up pressed against him? How will she explain it when he opens his eyes? She should definitely wiggle away. 

When she attempts to, his arm tightens and he mutters something about library books. 

Oh well. She tried. There are worse places to be trapped. _Might as well relax and enjoy it_. 

With a content sigh, she drifts back to sleep.

* * *

The next time she wakes, sunlight streams in through the cracks in the blinds. It must be close to noon. Logan is wrapped around her, spooning her from behind, and she’s forgotten how amazing it feels to wake up in his arms. 

He’d once told her that cuddling wasn’t the best part, and he was right. He’d proven that to her on multiple occasions. But cuddling with Logan was pretty damn fantastic and she’s missed it. 

Not that she’s let herself think about him in years. But now, being in the circle of his embrace, surrounded by his scent, she can’t convince herself that anyone after him has ever compared. 

Pulling her closer, he presses against her and yes, that’s definitely an erection poking her ass. Her heart races and her mouth goes dry as she flushes with arousal. 

_It’s a normal physical reaction_ , she tells herself. _It has nothing to do with you._

Logan shifts behind her, inhaling deeply, and rolls away, onto his back. Cold air hits her as he throws back the blankets and rolls out of bed, heading to his bathroom. 

_He might not be in a relationship, but it’s not like he’s made a move or asked you out or anything._

By the time Logan returns, Veronica’s composed, sitting up in bed, raising her arms over her head in a stretch. She can’t help the rush of pride that hits her when his eyes are drawn to her breasts. Although that’s probably a normal reaction for a heterosexual male, too. 

Logan clears his throat, scratches his chest, and now it’s her turn to gape at the view. _Biceps and pecs and abs, oh my._ Her cheeks burn with a blush as his lips stretch into a smirk at her prolonged stare. “Sleep well?”

“I did.” Folding her hands in her lap, she tries to appear prim and proper, not like she was just ogling him and thinking about tracing his abs with her tongue. “Thanks for letting me share your bed. I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“It’s not a problem. I don’t mind the company.” Grabbing a shirt from his dresser, Logan pulls it over his head, muffling his words. “I know it’s almost lunchtime but I need some coffee.”

“Definitely.”

Padding after him, Veronica holds the waistband of his too-large pajama pants in her fist so she doesn’t trip down the stairs. Perching on a stool at the counter, her mind drifts as Logan grinds the beans, adds the water, and flips the switch. The comforting aroma of coffee fills the air. 

Wrapping her hands around the mug he gives her, she takes a fortifying sip. Perfect. Just the way she likes it. 

Logan stalks around the long counter with his own cup and sits next to her, staring into its depths. After siping in silence for half a mug, she’s ready to make a plan. 

“Okay. So Sacks—”

“Perhaps left us a clue on his hard drive?”

His eyes twinkle as he hops up and retrieves the leather jacket he wore last night from the coat tree by the door. Body practically vibrating with excitement, he fishes deep in a pocket and holds out a flash drive on his palm. 

“Ta-da!”

_He was waiting for you to wake up sufficiently for this big reveal._

Shaking her head at his antics, she caves and asks the question she knows he’s dying to answer. 

“Do I even want to know where you hid that from the illustrious sheriff’s deputies last night?”

“Secret compartment pocket in my jacket.” Logan shrugs like it’s no big deal, but they both know it’s awesome. Veronica vows to have her tailor modify her favorite jacket with one as soon as she can.

 _Which is totally unnecessary as a lawyer_ , she reminds herself. 

Clearing her throat, she focuses back on Logan. “Where’s your computer? Let’s see what’s on that baby.”

“You sure you don’t want to shower first?”

“If you’re implying I stink, it’s noted and ignored in favor of clues.” She wiggles her fingers, palm up. “Gimme.”

Logan laughs and slaps it into her hand. “Not at all. I forgot how you get on a case.”

She had forgotten, too. Being a lawyer, helping people within the system, it’s good. A safe place and a solid fit for her talents. But it’s nothing compared to the rush of a mystery to solve. 

Putting that out of her mind, she digs into the carry-on she left in the middle of Logan’s living room and pulls out her laptop. She opens it and plugs in the flash drive. 

“Let’s see what we’ve got.”

* * *

Two individual showers and a pizza run later, Veronica stumbles onto something interesting. Scanning the file, she motions for Logan to hurry over. 

“Logan, look.” He drops onto the couch, pressed against her side to see the screen. “The file is labeled ‘2013 Budget,’ but it’s not a spreadsheet, it’s—”

“A dossier on the Tijuana drug cartel.” He whistles, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Veronica, they are pretty intense. What was Sacks mixed up with?”

She meets his eyes, wide with speculation. “I don’t know, but from what I’ve heard, they wouldn’t hesitate to take out a cop who was putting his nose where it didn’t belong.”

“This has to be connected, right?” Logan jumps up, pacing across his living room. “I wonder if the sheriff’s department is looking into this or if Sacks was just—”

The ringing of her cell phone cuts him off. She doesn’t recognize the number but it’s a Balboa County area code so she answers. 

“Hello?”

“ _Ms. Mars? Visiting hours are over for the day, but we just wanted to update you on your father’s condition.”_

 _Shit_. Veronica glances at her watch. How could she have worked through visiting hours? Guilt blooms in her chest. 

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Trying to keep her voice steady, she refuses to meet Logan’s eyes even though she feels the weight of his gaze. 

“ _Mr. Mars had a good day today, a few moments of lucidity. His doctor is encouraged by his progress.”_

She lets out a deep breath but her guilt doesn’t lessen. “That’s great news. Thank you for calling. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Fingers shaking, she ends the call. Logan takes the spot on the couch next to her again, wraps his arm around her shoulders. Tears burn in her eyes and clog her voice when she tries to speak. 

“He’s okay,” she finally manages, shrugging off his comfort. “And I’m fine, too.”

Logan stiffens, shrinking away from her. Clearing her throat, Veronica swipes at her eyes. “But you’re on your own tomorrow. I need to spend the day at the hospital.” 

“Okay, no problem. I have someone I trust at the sheriff’s department. I’ll see what he can tell me. You ready to turn in for the night?”

She wants to let him comfort her, make her forget. But this was exactly what had happened before—she let investigating and her feelings for Logan ruin her life and her dad’s career. She can’t let it happen again. Hopping to her feet on shaking legs, she pastes a smile on her face.

“Bet you’ll be glad to have your place to yourself tonight. I’m gonna get out of your hair, stay at my dad’s.” 

“Veronica,” he protests as she snaps her laptop closed, shoves it into her suitcase. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nah, I’m sure you need your space.” Tossing him another fake smile over her shoulder, she heads to the door. “Check in tomorrow, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, she flees. Logan’s frustrated sigh echoes in her ears the rest of the evening. 

* * *

Spending the day at the hospital with her dad helps restore Veronica’s equilibrium. Focusing on him reminds her what’s really important. He’s disoriented every time he wakes up, but the periods of confusion clear quickly and his doctor says he’s doing well, recovering normally. 

“Hey.” She looks up at the soft rap on the doorframe. Logan’s lanky body fills the space, sends a thrill through her. 

_No way, Veronica. Stop it. He might not be taken, but he’s not interested in you._

“How’s he doing?” Gesturing at Keith, asleep in the hospital bed, Logan comes to sit on the other side. 

“Better.” Veronica stares at her hands, folded on her lap. She had felt the intimacy developing between them, then shut him out. Now she’s not sure how to feel or what to say. 

Logan clears his throat. “Good. That’s good. And you?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” 

“Because last night—”

“I’m fine, Logan,” she growls. 

He must take the hint because he changes the subject. 

“I have news.”

“Logan?” Keith’s voice wavers and Logan rushes to his side. 

“Hey, boss. I think we need to have a long conversation about workplace safety after this.”

Keith smiles at the joke, and from her vantage point on the other side of the bed, Veronica can see the affection in Logan’s eyes. She struck again with the realization that he cares deeply for her father. 

“Lecture from you, too?” he whispers. “I get enough of that from her.”

Veronica uses her sternest lawyer voice. “And you’ll continue to. Unfortunately for you, Logan’s on my side this time.”

Keith’s eyes bounce back and forth between the two of them, and she hopes he doesn’t get the wrong impression. Then they slide closed. 

“Take care of everything for me, okay?” 

“Of course, Keith.”

But he’s already asleep. 

They slip out of his room, and Logan nudges her with his shoulder in the hallway. “Let me take you out for dinner. Talk through the case.”

“I don’t know. I’m just gonna grab some takeout, eat at home. I’m ready to be in for the night.”

It doesn’t make sense that sitting at the hospital all day is so exhausting, but Veronica could happily crawl into bed right now. 

“Okay.” Logan shrugs. “I’ll take you home and we can grab something on the way.”

“Oh, I drove my dad’s car.” Veronica digs the keys to the Crown Vic out of her bag and dangles them in front of Logan’s face. “I’m sure you’re jealous of my sweet ride.”

He laughs. “All right, I’ll pick up dinner and be at Keith’s house in half an hour.”

He’s persistent, she has to give him that. If she’s allowed to put on yoga pants, she can probably stay awake for dinner. As long as she keeps her feelings in check, it should be fine.

“Tacos?”

“I know just the place. You’ll love it.”

* * *

“So your dad had a good day?”

They eat leaning over the kitchen island, and Veronica’s just shoved a bite of her carnita taco in her mouth. She swallows. 

“Yeah. What did you learn? You mentioned good news.”

“I mentioned news. I wouldn’t say it’s particularly good.” Logan dips his tortilla chip into the container of salsa and chews thoughtfully. “The sheriff’s department isn’t looking into the Tijuana cartel.”

Anger sizzles beneath her skin. Giving in, she lets it consume her, fuel her. 

“Jesus, Logan!” she explodes. “Why the hell didn’t you just say that at the hospital? I thought you actually found something helpful. Instead, you wasted my whole evening!” 

His eyes flash at her words and he straightens, tension lengthening the long lines of his body. 

“God, Veronica. I forgot what a bitch you can be. I thought we were actually friends again. Guess I was wrong.” He balls up a napkin and throws it on the counter. “Sorry for wasting your night, buying you dinner. Call me if you decide you actually want to help. Or don’t, I don’t care.”

Striding through the kitchen, Logan slams the door behind him, making the knife block rattle on the counter. 

Veronica cradles her head in her hands, rage ebbing, replaced with guilt. She probably should have listened before snapping at him. Spending the day at the hospital definitely left her on edge. 

Maybe she had done the right thing, cutting Logan out of her life all these years. She really can’t seem to figure out how to be friends with him. 

_Okay, Veronica. New plan. Figure out what happened to your dad and then get the hell out of Neptune. Again._

* * *

If she is going to keep her dad safe and find out who targeted him and Sacks, she needs Logan on her side. This revelation hits her in the shower the next morning as she shampoos her hair. 

Honestly, she has missed him in her life. He’s a good friend, wickedly witty and fun to hang out with. Loyal. Generous. Thoughtful. She might struggle to keep her feelings strictly platonic, but it would be worth it. As much as she hates groveling, it’s time. 

So she grabs a grande black hazelnut coffee and a blueberry muffin from Java the Hut and makes her way to her dad’s office. She doesn’t bother to knock but breezes in and sets the bribe on Logan’s desk. 

“Sorry for last night. I was stressed and took it out on you. Anything new with the case? Where should I start?”

Logan accepts the coffee and eyes her over the rim of the cup while he sips it. She can tell he’s weighing her words, trying to decide if he’s going to make her suffer or let her off the hook. 

Veronica’s ready to storm out again when he sets the cup down and hands her a folder. Sinking into the chair across from Logan’s desk, she peruses the contents. 

“I had some time last night—” she avoids his pointed gaze, “and I found those on Sacks’s hard drive.”

Veronica flips through a series of surveillance photos. They all feature the same pretty woman. She appears to be in her mid thirties, black hair, light brown skin. She’s doing normal things in the pictures—leaving the grocery store, grabbing a coffee, entering her house. Nothing suspicious but…

“There’s something familiar about this one.” Veronica slaps the picture of the woman unlocking her front door onto Logan’s desk and he studies it. “I think it’s the house.”

“Yeah, look!” He points to the building in the left corner of the picture. “Does it remind you of—”

“Deputy Sack’s house.” Logan nods at Veronica’s interruption. “Granted, it was dark last time we were there, getting caught breaking and entering but…”

“You think she lives there?” He taps the picture. The woman juggles an armful of plastic grocery bags while she unlocks the front door. 

“She has a key. So if she doesn’t, she’s at least pretty familiar with whomever does,” Veronica hypothesizes. 

“Wanna go check it out?” Raising an eyebrow, Logan grabs the coffee and bag of muffins she brought, spins his car keys around his index finger.

“Of course.”

* * *

According to county tax records, the house belongs to an E. Ramirez. Staking it out in the morning yields nothing except confirmation that it’s definitely the house in the surveillance photos. But if Mrs. Ramirez works during the day—if it’s even Mrs. Ramirez in the pictures—it’s not surprising there’s no traffic. They watch the house from nine to ten—nothing happens— but Veronica convinces Logan to come back at 4:00 p.m.

Parked down the street in his vehicle, it’s a little after five when the pretty woman they’ve studied pulls a modest Toyota Corolla into the driveway and unlocks the front door.

“Give her a few minutes to get settled,” Logan murmurs as Veronica's hand flies to the door handle. “But before she starts dinner.”

Shrugging, she doesn’t want to admit that he actually has a good point. Waiting until Logan exits his car, she hurries to match her stride to his long steps.

“How about you let me do the talking, hmm? Women tend to find me charming.”

Veronica snorts and elbows him in the ribs. “Only because they don’t know you.”

Logan knocks on the door and they can hear shuffling inside, followed by a face twitching the curtains aside. After a pause, the dead bolt flips and she opens the door a crack. 

“Yes? How can I help you?” Her voice is suspicious with a slight accent, and her forehead creases into a deep V. 

“Hi. I’m Logan Echolls and this is my partner, Veronica Mars.” He gestures at her, and Veronica does her best to look friendly, to ignore how much she likes hearing him say that they are partners. “We’re looking into the death of your neighbor, Deputy Jerry Sacks. Did you know him well?”

At the mention of Sack’s name, her brown eyes widen and her unyielding features soften. 

“Can we come in?” Veronica tilts her head, and it’s not long before the door swings open wide and the woman motions them inside, locking the deadbolt behind them.

She wanders into her living room, sinking down onto the couch and twisting her fingers together. Logan and Veronica take the arm chairs across the coffee table.

“I did know Jerry,” she says softly. “He was a good man.”

“Mrs….” Logan trails off, waiting for her to fill in the blank and she obliges.

“Ms. Ramirez. Emelia. I’m not married.” Sighing, she stares at her hands. “I was very sorry to hear about Jerry. Do you—did you work with him?”

“We have in the past,” Veronica jumps in, letting Ms. Ramirez think they are with the sheriff’s department for as long as possible. And it’s not exactly a lie. They have both worked with Jerry in the past. 

“I saw in the paper he was in a car crash.” Emilia worries her cuticle, still studying her fingers. “Was it...not an accident?”

“We’re investigating all possibilities,” Logan says before Veronica jumps in. 

“Did anything ever happen that would make you ask that?” She tries to hit a curious note, not accusatory but the exasperated glance that Logan shoots her proves she failed. 

Emilia’s eyes widen. “No, but if you’re investigating…”

Logan leans forward, gives Ms Ramirez his most charming smile and Veronica’s heart lurches. “Just covering all the bases.”

Emilia relaxes visibly, unclenching her fingers and smiling shyly back at him. 

_Damn, he is good at this._ She sees why, despite everything, her dad hired him. 

“So did you see Jerry a lot? How long had you been neighbors?”

She shrugs. “A few years? We’d talk when we were out and…”

Veronica holds her breath as Logan nods, sympathetic and encouraging. 

“Well, he was helping me with a problem,” she finishes, tensing again. 

“Do you mind if I ask, what was the problem?” 

Emelia chews on her plump pink lip, obviously debating Logan’s question. 

“He was a good man, like you said.” Veronica pins Emelia in her gaze as the other woman fidgets. “A good deputy. If his death wasn’t an accident, we want him to have the justice he deserves.” 

“I just…” Emeilia’s face tightens again, eyes narrowing. “Did you say you were with the police?”

“Not exactly, ma’am. I’m a private investigator, hired to look into the car accident that took Jerry’s life.” Logan drops his gaze to the floor, somber. “Anything you can tell us would be helpful.”

Emelia stares at him, then at Veronica, as if measuring their sincerity. Veronica forces herself not to look away. 

They must pass the test because Emelia takes a deep breath and says, “Have you heard of the Tijuana Cartel?”

Logan and Veronica nod and she continues.

“I was forced to work for them. I didn’t want to, but they threatened my family back in Mexico. Jerry, he was helping me out. Cutting ties. And we were...seeing each other.” 

Her eyes shine with tears and she swallows. They give her a moment to control her emotions. 

“I’ve been so worried ever since, that the cartel discovered he was helping me and got to Jerry. He was keeping an eye on things, assured me it was safe. But it’s been days, and nothing else has happened. If it were the cartel, they would have threatened me by now.”

Logan shifts toward Veronica, voice low. “The surveillance photos. Jerry was on protection detail.”

“Car accidents aren’t really their style, either,” Veronica concedes. “Emelia is right, they would have gotten to her before the cop protecting her.” 

“Ms. Ramirez, I want to make sure everything is okay. I have an associate,” Logan’s face looks like he bit into a lemon, “who I think would be uniquely suited to protecting you and finishing what Jerry started. Do you mind if I send him by your house?”

Veronica’s instantly curious about this “associate,” but Emelia shakes her head.

“Oh, I’m not sure—”

“How about you just meet him, talk with him? And then decide.”

She stares at her hands again, twisting her fingers together until her knuckles turn white. “Okay. I just—Jerry…”

Her voice clogs with emotion and she breaks off. 

“I know.” Veronica retrieves a tissue from an end table, pats Emelia’s hand as she gives it to her. “My dad was with him in the car. We will do everything we can to find out what happened.”

* * *

“So now what?” Logan leans back in his chair in the Mars Investigations office. If Veronica wasn’t so despondent, she might be distracted by the strip of skin visible between the hem of his henley and his jeans. 

“Who’s your ‘associate’ that’s helping Ms. Ramirez?”

Logan makes the same sour face as before. “Weevil.”

“No way! He’s helping you out?”

“Helping is a strong word. But some of our clients trust him more than me.”

The silence stretches. Slumped in her chair, she props her head on her hand and wracks her brain, trying to think of a new investigative avenue. 

Nothing. It’s been so long since she’s worked a case, maybe her mind doesn’t know how to do it anymore. 

Pushing away from Logan’s desk and shoving off her doubts, she paces around the space. “Maybe my dad will be feeling better soon, be able to tell us—”

“Uh, is Mr. Mars in?”

Veronica spins at the interruption and Logan gets to his feet. A woman hesitates at the marbled glass door to the office, halfway in the atrium. She’s middle-aged, losing the battle with her laugh lines and the chestnut color of her hair can’t be natural. But her Louboutins and Prada scream 09er client, so Veronica schools her features. 

“No, ma’am. Unfortunately Mr. Mars is out of commission for a while.” Logan holds out his hand and deploys his most charming smile. “But I work with him. How can I help you?”

The woman is not unaffected. She practically blossoms under Logan’s gaze, twinkling and simpering. Veronica might be sick. 

“I’m sorry we’ve never met before, Mr…” Trailing off, she shifts to show more cleavage in her low-cut blouse and waits for Logan to fill in the blank. 

“Mr. Echolls. Logan. Would you like to have a seat?”

Sitting, he gestures at the chair Veronica just vacated and she bristles. 

Mrs. Society Wife doesn’t spare Veronica a glance as she slides onto the wooden chair and crosses her shapely legs to her best advantage. 

“I’m Debra Huntington. I actually just stopped by to give Mr. Mars my final payment. Do you know how much I owe him?”

“Oh!” The name triggers something in Veronica’s brain and she crosses the room, sorts through a pile of files on her dad’s desk. “You hired Mars Investigations to look into your husband, correct?”

“Soon to be ex-husband,” Mrs. Huntington corrects. She folds her hands together, looking up at Logan through her lashes. “Based on what Mr. Mars found, I’m newly single.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan replies diplomatically. 

Mrs. Huntington just laughs. “Don’t be, he was a bastard.” Her eyes glitter and Veronica feels a moment of kinship. “He’s pissed, though. Alimony and all. I just came from the sheriff’s office where I issued a restraining order against him for threatening me.”

Logan’s gaze turns intense. “What did your husband say? Do you have a reason to think he will act on his threats? Because—”

“Mrs. Huntington, a restraining order was a great choice. But I have to tell you, it’s more a legal formality than actual protection.” Veronica cuts in and hovers nearby. “As a lawyer and a woman, let me advise you to take precautions. Have you thought about—”

But Mrs. Huntington waves away their concerns and stands, straightening her pencil skirt. “I have a top notch security system, I’m not worried. He’s pissed, practically unhinged, but it just means more money in my settlement.”

Digging in her handbag, she emerges with her checkbook. “Thank you, Mr. Echolls. Do you have that total for me?”

Veronica flips through the file, rattles off a number while Mrs. Huntington writes the check. 

“If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call us.” Logan stands to walk her out and something dark churns in Veronica’s gut at Mrs. Huntington’s fingers lingering on his as she hands over the payment. 

Huffing, she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at their backs as Mrs. Huntington exits. 

“Veronica, do you know what this means?” Logan spins, bouncing on the balls of his feet in a gesture she hasn’t seen since high school. 

“Cougars are still into you?” She doesn’t bother to keep the bitter note out of her voice but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“No! We have a new lead!”

* * *

Daren Huntington works as an accountant at PricewaterhouseCoopers in San Diego. The whole drive there, Veronica berates herself for getting distracted by Mrs. Huntington’s blatant flirting and not thinking of this angle herself. 

But after Debra Huntington left, Logan had looked up her husband and discovered a penchant for stalking, violence, and irrational behavior. After calling Mrs. Huntington, they discovered that Mr. Huntington had found bank statements and knew that his wife had hired Mars Investigations. 

It’s a long shot but every other lead has been exhausted, so Logan pulls the BMW into the parking garage and they cross the street to the imposing glass building. 

“How do you want to play this?” Veronica whispers as they cross the modern lobby to the reception desk. 

Logan glances down at his jeans, boots, and tight black t-shirt and and then at her equally casual black and white stripes paired with dark jeans. 

“Not quite the look I’d go with if we had more time, but I think we can pull it off. The rich are allowed to be eccentric. Follow my lead.” 

Grabbing her hand, he links their fingers together, sending her a dazzling, if cheesy, smile. 

The young man at the intake desk looks up from his phone, bored. 

“How can I help you?” he intones.

“We’re here to see Daren Huntington.” Logan pulls her into his side and nuzzles her hair. She knew something like this was coming—distracting with PDA is a solid plan—but it still makes her breath catch in her throat. 

The receptionist lifts a disdaining brow. “Mr. Huntington is in Assurance, not Personal Advisory.”

“Oh, I know,” Logan breezes, oozing confidence. “He’s a close family friend. He makes an exception.”

Eyeing them up and down with disbelief, the man adjusts his glasses. “I don’t—”

“Tell him it’s Logan Echolls, looking to make some investments. Or tell your superior you turned away the Aaron Echolls estate, I don’t care.” He smooths the hem of his black t-shirt, slipping on the moneyed douchebag personna as if it were a glove.

The receptionist’s eyes widen at Logan’s name, and he sits up straight in his ergonomic desk chair. “Yes, sir, right away.”

Brushing her hair off her neck, Logan hums and places kisses along her jaw. Veronica can’t stop the full body shiver that rushes over her skin but tries to hide it by winding her arms around him and giggling. 

“Honey, we’re in public,” she protests half-heartedly, fluttering her lashes at the receptionist. But he’s not paying attention. 

After stabbing buttons on his phone and frowning, trying not to watch their show, the receptionist finally clears his throat. 

“Um, I’m very sorry, sir, but Mr. Huntington is not in today. Can I reschedule your appointment?”

Logan stops rubbing his stubble on the sensitive skin of her neck—delicious torture—and turns to the young man, tucking her into his side. 

“Oh, that’s no problem. I’ll just stop in next time we’re in town.”

“But, sir, we really prefer appointments!”

“He’s used to getting his way,” Veronica confides to the receptionist, patting Logan’s chest affectionately. 

“Have a good day.” Logan tosses off a two fingered salute and spins them toward the door, squeezing her ass on the way out. 

Jumping, she gives a fake giggle, then pinches his side, hard, once they are out of sight of the receptionist. 

“Keep your paws to yourself next time, mister.”

Raising said paws, Logan’s the picture of innocence. “What? Just trying to sell the cover. And it worked.”

“Yeah, he didn’t call security.” Veronica climbs into the BMW. “But we didn’t find Huntington.”

Tapping on the steering wheel, Logan backs up and drives out of the parking garage. “Maybe we can find his lawyer, track down where he’s staying. We make a pretty decent team, Veronica.”

A small smile plays around his lips and she remembers how it felt when he kissed her neck. 

“We do, don’t we?” She clears her throat, hopes she’s not blushing at the memory. “Let’s put some teamwork into action. While you’re tracking down Huntington, I’m going to have you drop me off at the hospital to see my dad."

“You can call them, if you want,” Logan suggests, glancing over at her, then back to the road. “Check in and see how he’s doing.”

“That’s a good idea.” Fishing her phone out of her purse, she types in the number, now memorized, for the hospital. 

After listening to the recorded answering message and entering in the correct department, she waits until a nurse answers, only o discover that her dad has been moved out of Intensive Care to the critical floor. _Great news but no one thought to call me?_

“Balboa County Memorial Hospital, Critical Care. How may I help you?”

 _Finally_. 

“Yes, this is Veronica Mars. I’m calling to check on my father, Keith. They just moved him?” 

“Oh, yes. Mr. Mars. He’s doing well, visiting with his lawyer now.”

“His lawyer?”

“That’s what the man claimed. Tall, brown hair?”

“Oh, Cliff! That’s great. I’ll be by in about half an hour to see him, too, if he’s not too tired.”

“Excellent, Ms. Mars. Have a nice day.”

Veronica exhales, tension draining at the good news. Tossing her phone in her bag, she settles back into the seat. 

“Dad’s doing well, moved out of intensive care,” she recaps for Logan, “and Cliff is there now.”

“I thought Cliff was in Vegas.” Idly, Logan adjusts the air conditioning. “He called me earlier, complained again about rescuing us, and reminded me he wouldn’t be at poker night this week.”

“Maybe he wanted to save his money.”

“Both poker night and Vegas will have the opposite effect.” Logan raises his brows. “It’s odd, he was really looking forward to the trip. I’m surprised he didn’t call me back and tell me he was sticking around.”

“You don’t think…” she trails off, meeting his serious gaze as unease prickles her neck.

“Call him, see what’s up.” 

Retrieving her phone, Veronica scrolls through the contacts.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she mutters as she listens to the phone ring.

Right before she’s sure it’s going to roll to voicemail, Cliff McCormack’s deep voice fills her ear. 

“Veronica Mars! To what do I owe the pleasure this time?”

“I’d love to catch up, Cliff, but what are you doing right now?” Urgency creeps into her voice, making it high pitched with tension. 

“Always with the left-field questions. Must run in the family. I just stepped out of The Golden Nugget in lovely Las Vegas to take your call, V. Is this a billable hour?”

“Thanks, I promise I’ll call back and fill you in later.”

Hanging up on his sputtering protests, she ends the call. Anxiety blooms in her chest. “Cliff’s in Vegas like you thought, not visiting my dad in the hospital.”

“Can you think of anyone else it could be? Other lawyer friends?” Logan’s forehead wrinkles with worry and, subconsciously or not, he presses on the accelerator as Veronica shakes her head no. 

“Call the hospital back,” he urges, changing lanes and dodging other cars on the road. “They can send a nurse to Keith’s room until we get there.”

Veronica complies, but the phone rings and rings. “No answer. The nurses must all be busy.” 

The tires don’t squeal, the engine doesn’t rumble. The BMW is a piece of precision engineering, smooth and quiet. But the force of acceleration hits her, pressing her back into the leather seat. Logan’s face sets in grim lines as he speeds to the hospital in tense silence. The drive has never taken longer.

Locating the critical care floor, Veronica flies past the nurses station before she realizes she doesn’t know where her father’s new room is. 

With an audible growl, Veronica skids to a halt and U-turns her way back to the nurse’s desk, her heart pounding in her chest. The nurse, busy, keeps her eyes trained on the paperwork in front of her, taking notes, phone jammed between her shoulder and her ear.

Veronica wants to scream in frustration, but she’s so anxious that she can’t figure out how to speak. Her breath comes out in pants. She’s running out of time! 

“Keith Mars,” is what blurts from her mouth. “Please.” She knows she’s not making sense. 

The nurse’s only response is to hold up a finger, silently bidding her to wait.

Taking over, Logan steps behind the desk and consults a whiteboard mounted on the wall. The nurse jumps, obviously affronted to have someone in her space, but Logan doesn’t budge. 

“Three seventeen.” He spins back to Veronica, his eyes dilated in fear. “Back that way!” Logan points.

“What are you doing?” The nurse hisses, covering the phone mouthpiece, but Veronica is already moving through the maze of hallways toward room 317, Logan on her heels.

“Call security,” Logan yells over his shoulder at the astonished nurse.

The door is closed and doesn’t move when she tries to open it. “Help me, Logan. I think something has been pushed in front of it,” she pants, her voice tight with worry.

Logan puts his shoulder against the door, grunting. Their combined efforts slowly yield about a foot of space, medical equipment visibly blocking the entrance. 

“I can squeeze through.”

“Veronica, no!” he calls, but she easily shakes him off his attempt to hold her back, and slips into the hospital room. 

Daren Huntington, middle aged with streaks of grey threaded through his brown hair, stands over her father’s bed with a pillow pressed to Keith’s face. 

“How dare you! You ruined my life!” he hisses as he looms over her father.

“Get off him!” 

Veronica doesn’t think. Doesn’t consider the odds, doesn’t factor in weight or strength. She flies at Huntington, trying to tackle him to the ground or throw him off balance enough to release Keith. 

Yelling, he turns on her, shoving her. Hard. But he takes his hands off the pillow smothering her dad. 

Veronica’s backside hurts from her fall on the cold linoleum, and before she can scuttle out of reach, Huntington snatches the vase of flowers off Keith’s bedside table and hits her across the face with it. 

The intense pain stuns her, leaves her dazed on the floor while Daren spins back to her dad in the bed. 

_No_! She tries to call out, tries to fight back but her body refuses to listen, head throbbing. The best she manages is a kick to Huntington’s shins. If she can just distract him from her father…

Snarling, he steps on her hand. The agony is unbearable, and Veronica screams until Huntington is lifted off her and thrown into a corner. 

“Veronica! Veronica, are you okay?” Logan’s dark eyes dart frantically over her body, checking for injuries. He cradles her close. “Oh, god, I forgot how impulsive you are. You’ve gotta stop doing that, Mars, because—”

“Logan!” she gasps as Huntington looms over them. But before she can make a move, her assailant collapses as a metal bedpan strikes his temple with a loud _bang_.

“Who’s your daddy?” Keith whispers, then falls back on the bed.

* * *

“I’m fine,” Veronica growls at Dr. Doogie Howser, who’s name she still hasn’t bothered to learn. “There’s no way I’m staying here tonight for observation.”

“Be that as it may, Ms. Mars—”

“Veronica!” Logan pushes the door open, brushes past the doctor without a second look and rushes to her side. “They whisked you away while I was making sure the incompetent sheriff arrested Huntington. Are you okay?”

He holds his body stiff, and his eyes are wild with fear. She reaches out for him with her good hand and opens her mouth to reassure him when the doctor interrupts.

“As I was just telling Ms. Mars, her x-rays show that her fingers are not broken but she has some facial bruising and a possible concussion. She should spend the night here so that we can keep an eye on her.

“And I was just telling _him_ ,” Veronica doesn't care that she’s practically yelling, “that I’m doing no such thing.”

“She can come home with me. I’m familiar with concussion symptoms and what to look for.” Logan clutches her fingers, forehead still crinkled with worry. “Go get her discharge papers, please.”

The young doctor glares at the obvious brush-off but stalks out. Logan sinks to his knees next to the bed. 

“When you rushed into danger, Veronica, and I couldn’t get to you—” His voice breaks and he clears his throat. “I just, I need you in my life.”

Still holding her hand, he keeps his eyes trained on the scratchy bed sheets. 

“You need me in your life?” Veronica echoes. The heady rush of danger she experienced earlier makes her bold. “Like, as your friend?”

“Yeah, of course. I just—”

“What if i don’t want to be your friend? Do I have a say in the matter?”

“Oh.” His expression falls. “I thought things were going well between us this time, but I guess—” 

“What if I can’t stand being just your friend? What if I wanted to rip every hair out of your housekeeper’s head when I thought she was your girlfriend? I was even ready to attack that cougar for flirting with you.”

A slow grin spreads across his face as he inches closer to her. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“How cute?” Sitting up, Veronica is a hair's breadth away from him, itching to thread her fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck and pull his mouth to hers.

“Cute enough,” Logan breathes, glancing at her lips and then back to her eyes. His gaze is intense, full of emotion and she can’t stand not kissing him any longer.

Pushing up off the bed, her lips brush his. Electricity zips along her spine and her nerve endings are flooded with awareness. It’s been more than eight years since she’s kissed Logan Echolls, and it’s even better than she remembers. 

He must feel the same because he deepens the kiss, opening his mouth and allowing her tongue inside to twine around his. His fingers tangle in her hair, holding her to him, and she never wants him to stop. She pours all her unspoken feelings into the kiss—affection and desire and longing. 

Finally pulling apart to gulp oxygen into their lungs, Logan assesses her. “Was that the result of the concussion?”

“I hope not.” Smiling slyly at him, Veronica bites her lip. “Best choice I’ve made in a while.”

“I have to agree.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Epilogue

Three Weeks Later

* * *

“Hey, there, hot stuff.” 

Veronica stands in the doorway to Logan’s office, smirking at him as his head snaps up from the file he’s perusing. A lazy smile spreads across his face. Crossing to stand by him behind the desk, she places a quick kiss on his cheek.

But Logan grabs the back of her neck, forcing her to lean into him as he deepens the kiss. He scoots his chair away from the desk, making more space for her and she settles onto his lap. Before she knows what’s going on, his hands slide under her shirt, moving up her ribcage— 

“Anyone could walk in,” Veronica gasps, pulling away as much as she can while sitting on his lap.

“I missed you,” Logan mumbles in her neck, placing kisses along her jaw.

Shivering, she anchors her hands in his hair, holding his head in place right where she likes it. “You just saw me when you picked me up from the airport.”

“And I still haven’t got to _greet_ you properly. Not for lack of trying on my part, though.”

Veronica had missed him, too, while she was in San Francisco taking care of things. So she lets the reunion continue, even lets him unhook her bra. But before her shirt ends up on the floor, she clears her throat and wiggles on his lap, getting comfortable. 

“Definitely more of that later. What are you working on?”

Logan shrugs, and exhales a deep breath. “Not much. Was your dad happy to see you?”

After picking her up from the airport, he’d dropped her straight off at the hospital so she could check in with her father. 

“He was. And good news—he should be moving out of the hospital and into a rehab facility soon.”

Thumbs rubbing distracting circles on her lower back, he smiles. “That’s great. Did you accomplish everything you wanted to when you were home?”

 _Home._ The word catches her by surprise, reiterates the choices she made while she was gone.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Veronica bites her lip and stares at Logan’s ear, trying to figure out how to tell him what she decided. “I quit my job, permanently, and gave up my apartment lease. I’m officially moving out next weekend. Moving home.”

Logan’s mouth drops open, then stretches wide as he laughs.

“Moving back to Neptune? Forever?”

Nodding, she settles her hands on his shoulders. “Yep. I’m gonna get my own place, find a job. I’ll be able to help out my dad and...living in the same city as my boyfriend would be nice.”

They hadn’t really talked much about their relationship over the last three weeks, only coming up for air between bouts of hot sex for visits to the hospital. Logan would go into the office, she’d sit with her dad, and then they’d fall into bed together (or various surfaces in his apartment) each night. But she’d done some soul searching during her four-day trip north and this choice felt right. Calling Logan her boyfriend felt right, too, and the light shining in his eyes affirmed it.

“That sounds excellent.” Leaning in, he kisses her neck again, his mouth warm and soft against her sensitive skin. “Let’s take off work and go celebrate.”

Pleasure ripples through her, starting from his lips and radiating outward. “Yeah, okay.”

Hopping up off his lap, Veronica should probably be ashamed that she’s encouraging her boyfriend to skip work for some afternoon delight. But she’s not.

Linking their fingers, she tugs him out of his chair. 

“Eager, are we, Mars?” Logan teases. “I think you missed me, too.”

“Maybe a little.”

He slings his arm over her shoulders as they make their way through the office and then pauses to lock the door. 

“So what kind of job are you going to look for?” he asks as they head down the stairs.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll work for the D.A.’s office or Legal Aid here. Maybe I’ll consult for Mars Investigations. Maybe, if I’m really lucky, Cliff will have me.”

Logan snorts a laugh, then lets her in the passenger door of his car.

Once he’s sitting across from her, she cups his chin and gazes into his eyes.

“All my favorite people are here. Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Bondo for her excellent beta work! Thank you, Silvery, for your slow burn suggestions. Thanks, CCS, for your pacing help, and all the thanks to MarshmellowBobcat for telling me that this one was special and worth the time it took to get it ready to post. I spent 15 months writing it and it would not have gotten finished if not for her encouragement!


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